


Living Poetry

by AsYouWish_ForeverandAlways



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slightly Confusing Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 10:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12529156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsYouWish_ForeverandAlways/pseuds/AsYouWish_ForeverandAlways
Summary: Baz writes poetry, Simon comes in and finds a picture of his mom. Some sadness occurs, but then they kiss, so that is kind of cute.





	Living Poetry

“You are like the setting sun  
But I don’t want you to fall  
If I try to catch you, to aid in your descent  
You will burn me and char me alive  
But it would be worth it to feel your touch at least  
Once on my…”

Its trash, all of it, it is just bloody terrible. I crinkle up the paper and put it in the waste bin. I try again.

I hear the door open. I groan and shove the paper under one of my text books for Latin. 

I am not a poet, but I am a 18 year old vampire magician, so forgive me if I am a little disturbed and whiny, and am failing at poetry. I am good at basically everything except poetry, but not everyone is perfect. Especially the Chosen One, Simon Bloody Snow, who is a terror to room with. He is messy, noisy, clumsy, annoying, and I am desperately in love with him. 

“Baz what are you doing?” Snow asks as he sort of shuffles into our room.

“My Latin assignment, Snow.” I say, writing down a Latin phrase I really like, “homo homini lupus”, on a blank sheet of paper to make it seem like I was actually doing something productive and not writing terrible angst poetry. 

“Okay.” Snow says with a quick shrug before he crossed to his side of the room and started rummaging through his stuff for something. 

“What are you doing Snow?” I ask purposely feigning interest in whatever caused him to come to our dorm right after classes. This is usually the time I try to work out my unrequited feelings for him because at this time he would be pinning after Wellbelove or something, but right now he is here. 

He doesn’t say anything as he sits back on his feet looking at something in his hand. I realise it’s a photo, and tears begin to fall down his mole-ridden cheeks.

In a moment I am by his side staring down at him, at another I am sitting on the floor next to him. He looks at me in surprise as I take the photo from him. It is of a young woman with seemingly light hair, she looked like she was drawn in soft edges, someone to cry to, and who just seemed matronly, or a stoic hero. My eyes dart to Snow’s face, his beautifully curvy face. It must be his mother, but why would he be crying now if he has already had it?

“I was talking to the Mage,” he whispers, his hands resting in his lap while I study the photo. “I asked him if he new where I came from.” He pauses, sniffling slightly. “I just wanted to know if, in any universe, I could have had a family that loved me, or if in every possible way, I am meant to be broken.” At this, his voice broke. I felt my heartbeat quicken, even though I wasn’t aware that can still happen, and I gently place my hand on his back and rub it. 

After a few breaths he says, “So the Mage said he had already given me a piece of my past. It is a photo of my mother a few months before she died...before I was born.” Tears are running down his face, and he is an absolute mess. I was about to tease him, but then, this is exactly what I did for years after my mother died. Any remain of her, even Watford, would sometimes drive me to that place of grief and sadness, wishing she could see me even if I know what a disappointment I would be. Still, I understand him. Which is why I make my way to stand up, but he pulls on my sleeve.

“Please, Baz. I know we aren’t friends, and I still hate you. But, I don’t want to be alone.” 

I stare into his beautiful, naive eyes. “Snow, I can get Bunce or Wellbelove, they may be more helpful and understanding to your….emotions.” 

He pulls my hand down, forcing me next to him. “But we match.” He says looking into my unflinching grimace, which I feel break. “You, more than anyone else at Watford know what it’s like to feel like you started life with a missing piece.” I have never heard Snow sound so poetic before, I kind of like it. I know this is a bad time to want to snog my dorm mate, but there is this pull in my gut that pushes me to put my hand on his face, turning so that I can gaze at his dazed expression. 

“Aleister Crowley Simon.” I want to have a quip, but I suddenly can’t think. Luckily, the Chosen One who excels at not thinking bridges the gap and kisses me.

At this point I am unsure if he is still dating Wellbelove, and I know bonding over our dead mums may not be the best “first kiss story”, but at this point I don’t care as I play with his curls in my hand. 

It ended all too soon, and as I lean back against the wall with his head on my chest, I kiss the top of his head. 

“Since we’re snogging now, can I read all of the love poems you wrote about me?” I hear him ask, looking up at me. And then he adds, “Also, you called me Simon.”

I look at a fixed point on the wall. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, and no I didn’t.” I try to keep the smile from my lips, but he sees it anyways. 

“Penelope found them when we were studying this one time, and yes you did.” 

I roll my eyes and move my shoulder just so, forcing him to sit up. 

“Fine, Simon.” I then press my mouth against his. Wouldn’t my mum be proud? Anyways, now I can stop writing poems of unrequited love, because I finally know what it’s like to have love that is "recquited".

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to put something out there.


End file.
